Always, My Lovely One
by Choice
Summary: Kurt and Puck's Easter-slash-Passover together. Pretty much equal parts porn, fluff, and angst. Mature content warning! For, like, one part.


**Always (My Lovely One)

* * *

**

When I went to fill an Easter-themed prompt over at the _glee_fluff_meme_ on LiveJournal (Puck/Kurt Easter egg hunt), this happened. I didn't expect or intend for it to be angst, but I think it's got enough porn and fluff in it to counter-balance the slight somberness this has.  
Yeah-**NSFW**, guys. It's just one scene, I believe. And also... the title of this story, as well as the poem I quote within, are from the Pablo Neruda poem, "Lovely One."

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Even though Puck celebrated Passover with his family, he would always sneak out on the morning before Easter Sunday to hunt for candy- and coin-filled plastic eggs in the courtyard of one of Lima's Catholic churches. Who was he to deny himself chocolate and rivalry all because he was a hot Jew? It wasn't his fault.

Of course, the last time he went on an Easter egg hunt was _years _ago. It had lost its charm when he realized badasses didn't go frolicking in fields in search of pastel eggs. (Okay, fine-he stopped going when he outgrew the age limit.) Since junior high, he'd spent the Saturday morning sleeping off spring break Halo marathons and candy bar-binges with Finn.

But when he told Kurt about those wonderful, successful hunts, the wicker baskets he'd always filled with more eggs than clumps of grass, the gleek squeezed Puck's hand he'd been holding, smiling nostalgically as he stared off into space. "That sounds like it was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, it was…" Puck said slowly. He eyed Kurt for a moment, and when the other boy didn't seem inclined to share the trip he was so obviously taking on Memory Lane, he tentatively asked, "What about you? Have you ever gone on a hunt?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course." Kurt glanced down at Puck's hand, as if seeing it for the first time. "Yeah. My mom used to set up this elaborate little treasure hunt for me every year before she…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "She would always leave the first one on my pillow, and each egg I found had a small toy or something, along with a hint that told me where the next egg would be. And the last egg always had this one poem she always read out loud to me."

Puck tugged on Kurt's hand, and the brunet smiled faintly as he slid onto Puck's lap. "Do you remember it?" He asked.

Kurt chuckled a bit humorlessly. "Of course, I have it immortalized in home videos in the unlikely situation where I forget." He closed his eyes, recited, "Lovely one, my lovely one, your voice, your skin, your nails. Lovely one, my lovely one, your being, your light, your shadow. Lovely one, all that is mine. Lovely one, all that is mine, my dear.

When you walk or rest, when you sing or sleep, when you suffer or dream…" Kurt swallowed reflexively. "Always, when you are near or far. Always, you are mine, my lovely one." He inhaled shakily. "Always."

Puck gently kissed the crown of Kurt's head, rubbing his forearms in soothing circles. "Your mom was awesome."

"She was." Kurt smiled, closing his misty eyes. His face lost more of its sparkle when Kurt went on, "My dad tried keeping up the tradition after-. But after his first year, which was kind of sucky because everything was still so raw, he stopped trying. He'd just leave my Easter basket, filled with tons of candy and gifts, in my room for me to go through when I woke up."

Puck didn't know what to say, so he just kissed Kurt until the boy didn't seem to be so close to tears.

But since then, the cogs of his mind had begun to turn, and a scheme to make their first Easter _the _shit was put into play.

* * *

It was with an extreme case of bed-head and a crankiness to rival Quinn Fabray's pregnant-hormone mood swings that Kurt Hummel greeted Easter morning. After spending the better part of last week hinting at some kind of get-together with his idiot of a boyfriend and _not _getting an invite or _anything _for an Easter/Passover present exchange, Kurt deemed everything a lost cause and bitched out a completely oblivious Puck on Friday. The present Kurt had planned on giving Noah was stuffed into the back of his closet like a dirty secret, right next to his shoebox tiara collection and the last season's scarves he'd yet to properly dispose of (read: a detailed, heartfelt liturgy followed by mass cremation).

Kurt wailed profanities to Puck, repeatedly face-planting on his framed _Grease _poster when he stubbed his piggy-toe into a bookshelf on his way upstairs, because his morning clumsiness was blamed on his lack of sleep over the stupid boyfriend of his. When he finally composed himself and took an Advil for the headache he'd given himself, he walked into the kitchen and offered his dad a half-assed greeting, making a beeline for the fridge. He'd have to eat something he wouldn't regret later after inevitably drowning his angst (and clogging his arteries and pores) in calorie-laden junk food.

Burt smiled at his son's back, his blue eyes glittering in amusement. "I'm guessing you missed it."

Kurt was still rummaging around the pantry-where the hell were the bagels?-and distractedly replied, "Missed what?"

"Missed your surprise," Burt said. He held the newspaper back in front of him. "Go back downstairs."

Kurt, clearly not in the mood for games, snapped, "I don't feel like it."

"Oh, quit having a temper tantrum over something your boy did and go downstairs."

Kurt muttered obscenities beneath his breath, but slammed down the bagel he'd found and stomped back downstairs.

He was seething as he glared at his bedroom. Kurt was about to give his father a piece of his mind when his eye caught something bright and pink on his bed.

…An egg?

He blinked in shock before shuffling over to his pillow where an innocent plastic egg was nestled. He picked it up, rolling it around in his hands before cracking it open. He smiled and popped a handful of lime Skittles-his favorite flavor-into his mouth as he read the scrap of paper.

Times New Roman font said:

"know how much you like em.

lettuce, tomatoes, dressing"

Kurt frowned in confusion, but gently refolded the paper and tucked it back into its egg.

He went back upstairs a little happier, and he got as far as toasting his bagel before he began hunting for the next egg.

"Lettuce, tomatoes, and dressing?" He asked himself. His father was nowhere to be found-the Sunday paper was neatly folded, his coffee mug sitting in the sink. He was probably out visiting his friends or something, so weaseling more clues from him was out of the question.

Kurt didn't really mind-it gave him something to do since he _didn't have any plans_.

He opened the fridge, but there were no plastic eggs to be found in the chiller amongst the aforementioned vegetables, nor in the side shelves where bottles of salad dressing were. He frowned. Since when was his dad so clever?

It hadn't been in the fridge, but he found the next egg-larger and sky blue-hiding inside of the large wooden salad bowl in the dining room. He grinned at the familiar pop, and a small blue bottle fell onto the carpet. He picked it up-Lavender Vanilla massage oil for sleep aid-and read the accompanying note.

"you're always sayin you can never sleep."

Kurt frowned, surprised. How could his dad know about his sort-of insomnia? He didn't think he made much noise late at night when he would make himself cups of Sleepytime tea. He read on.

"water, brush, mint"

The latter two clues gave it away. After he nearly inhaled his bagel, he found a lemon-yellow egg the size of a golf ball in his toothbrush holder. Inside was a small tube of…

Kurt gaped down at the grape-flavored lube, and was disgusted and perturbed on all sorts of levels that his father would get him _lube_. He was beginning to doubt that this was his father's doing, and reading the note solidified his hunch that someone else, specifically someone he'd kicked into the doghouse, was behind all of this.

"your fave flavor, right? (;

math, bio, english"

He placed the lube in his desk drawer as he wandered back into his room to get dressed. He slipped into a pair of light blue Bermuda shorts and thought about his new clues.

Noah wouldn't make him go all the way to school for the next egg, would he? He bit his lip as he buttoned up his cardigan in the mirror. Kurt turned to go into his bathroom, but he nearly did a face-plant on the carpeted floor when stumbled over something.

He glared down at his book bag innocently plopped in the middle of his bedroom. Since when did he ever leave his things lying around?

He picked up his book bag and when he chucked it onto his bed, something orange and round flew out of it. Kurt instantly brightened, leaping forward to catch the egg before it landed on the floor.

Lying on the ground, he cracked open the next egg and eyed its contents. His chest tightened with emotion.

"found it in my hamper…"

Kurt nodded to himself, smiling and slipping the tacky hemp friendship bracelet Mercedes had gotten him back onto his wrist.

"your baby, gloves"

'Your baby' was a dead giveaway. He slipped on some tennis shoes and picked up his car keys. Kurt nearly scratched his paintjob in his haste to unlock his baby, but once he was inside, he was kind of confused. "Gloves? Gloves…"

"Oh!" He slapped his forehead. "The glove compartment. _Duh_." He popped open the compartment, and sure enough, a larger, glittery green egg sat between his car manual and emergency sewing kit.

He squealed when a pair of Heartbeats, in Rose Red, fell onto his lap. "He remembered!"

"merry (very) belated x-mas -red's your color right?"

* * *

"cars, coffee, break"

Kurt was still stumped, just as he had been nearly an hour ago. He had given up after five minutes' thought in favor of testing out his new earphones, which were _amazing_. But even his favorites playlist wasn't enough to deter him from the chase.

He had no idea how coffee related to cars, and he was on his way to premature frown lines when his dad called his cell.

"Hello?" Kurt asked, his voice terse from frustration.

"Kurt, I need you to head over to the garage for a sec," His dad said. After a beat, "Quit rolling your eyes and get your ass down here."

"Yes, dad."

* * *

He was irked when he wound up spending a minute looking at a clearly busted engine before being asked to brew up another pot of coffee. "You made me come all the way to the shop _to make you coffee?_"

Burt tried hard to conceal his smirk. "Well, when you put it that way…"

Kurt frowned, puzzled, before his brain clicked. "_Oh_, cars, coffee, and break! Of course!" Kurt grinned, flouncing past his amused father. "Thanks, dad!"

Burt shook his head in amusement. "Young love, eh?" He said to his client. The woman giggled in amusement.

Kurt plucked a lilac-colored egg from the empty coffee pot, and when he opened it up on the break room's Formica countertop, he was slightly discouraged when only a note was revealed.

"don't frown-wrinkles :P

IOU

bed, first time"

* * *

He was home in record timing, and even though he was expecting to see Noah in his bedroom, he stumbled when he noticed just what his boyfriend was _wearing_.

Kurt gaped, taking in the pink bunny-ear headband, the matching pink skintight underwear, and… well, that was it. Once he started giggling, it didn't take long for him to be in hysterics on his bedroom floor.

Puck didn't seem too perturbed by Kurt's reaction; he merely smirked and sprawled out on Kurt's bed. "Whenever you're done pissing yourself laughing, I've got your last three presents."

Kurt wiped his eyes, still snickering as he crawled up onto his bed with some help from Noah. "You look ridiculous."

Puck grinned, wiggling his painted nose and 'whiskers' for emphasis. "I can only imagine," He agreed.

Kurt sighed happily when Puck crushed their lips together, stroking that bare, warm skin as Puck worked at the buttons on his shirt. "I thought you forgot about Easter," He murmured against Puck's lips. "Why do you taste like chocolate?"

"'Cause I'm sweet, duh. And how could I forget one of my favorite holidays?"

Kurt was quickly divested of his clothing, and Puck smirked down at him, picking up his hands to rest them on his hips before attacking Kurt's lips once more. He moaned into Noah's mouth, his hands clenching on the elastic waistband of Puck's underwear. He tugged those hips down, trailing his one palm around to grope at that tight ass-

Kurt almost bit Puck's lip when he burst out into more peals of laughter, and Puck was snickering too as Kurt pulled an egg from the pink underwear. "There's something seriously wrong with you," Kurt said breathlessly, smiling as he kissed Puck's chin.

"Yeah, yeah, just open the damn egg already."

He popped the top off of the medium-sized red egg, and it took maybe half a second for his face to match its color. Lying innocently in his hands was a string of metallic turquoise anal beads.

Puck smirked, but his eyes, slightly crinkled and lacking that playful glow, sold him out. "That porno we watched together-you said you, uh, wanted to give 'em a try, so…"

Kurt looked from the beads to Puck and back to the beads again, absently stroking one of the large balls. He smiled reassuringly when he realized he'd yet to say anything. "I like them. A lot." He pressed his erection into Puck's thigh with a playful grin. "Maybe we could use them sometime during spring break?"

"Of course." Puck grinned, bold and confident once more as he put the beads on the nightstand in favor of pressing his entire body against Kurt's. "So, you wanna do what bunnies do?"

Kurt tugged off the pink banana hammock with a sly smirk. "I thought you'd never ask."

The next Easter egg Kurt found under his bed, courtesy of Puck. He was sprawled out on his stomach, snatching the plastic container off the ground. Kurt shouted in surprise and almost cracked his skull on the floor when playful fingers tickled his bare ass. "Puck!" He chastised, trying to turn around and shove his idiot boyfriend off of him. "A little warning!"

"Quit flailing," Puck ordered. He helped by dragging Kurt's legs towards him until the upper half of the brunet's body was back on the mattress. He growled, nipping at Kurt's left cheek. "Hand me the fucking egg if you're not gonna open it, like, five seconds ago."

"Pushy bit-_eep! _Okay, keep your pants-um. You know what I mean." Kurt ignored Puck's sniggers and used his two thumbs to apply enough pressure to make the top of the egg fly off.

He was sure his eyebrows were going to permanently reside up near his hairline. "You got me packets of ketchup?"

"Oh, for-take the packet out and read it, you moron." Puck bent over Kurt's back, grabbing those pale hands in his own so the label was visible on the plastic rectangles.

"…'Chocolate Body Paint'?"

He saw Puck's grin in his peripheral vision as the bunny-eared boy tugged it from his lax grasp. "Honestly I think I'll enjoy this waaaaay more than you will," He admitted, smoothing his hands down Kurt's side as he moved back on his haunches above Kurt. "I always say you look good enough to eat, but eating chocolate-_chocolate!_-off you might make me come without even touching myself."

Kurt looked over his shoulder at Noah, grinning and rolling his eyes as Puck emitted an exaggerated moan. "Well what are you waiting for? But I swear on all that is good and brand name: get chocolate on my bed sheets…" He threatened, "…and you'll be relying on touching yourself more often than usual."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, my prudish obsessive-compulsive diva," Puck cooed, wiggling his Sharpie-colored nose at Kurt and dodging his fist with a shit-eating grin. "Okay, sit still if you wanna do this. I'd rather not get konked out before we get to the good stuff."

The paint, warmed by Puck's kneading fingers before it was squeezed onto Kurt's lower back, felt weird and goopy as it was lightly spread in strange patterns over his skin. "What, are you writing a novel back there?" He asked after several minutes more.

"One sec," Puck murmured, "Hand me my phone?"

"Why?"

"The quicker you do it, the quicker I'll fuck you."

Kurt sighed in faux-regret. "You drive a hard bargain."

Once Puck had clicked his camera-phone enough to his satisfaction, the cell was chucked onto the floor in favor of licking at Kurt's skin. Kurt squealed at the tongue tickling the small of his back, and when that expert mouth trailed town to the peak of Kurt's butt, his giggles turned into one looped moan.

"Like that, baby?" Puck asked during the split second he happened to remove his mouth from Kurt's ass. Just as he was about to respond, Puck spread his cheeks and sucked at the sensitive skin exposed.

"_Noah!_" Kurt mewled, bucking against a pillow that held his lower half up. "Fuckfuckfuck, _will you fuck me already!_"

"But you taste so good," Puck moaned, accenting his words with gentle thrusts of his tongue.

"Bet I feel-_ah!_-feel better," Kurt panted, wriggling away and spinning around to face an adorably disheveled Puck.

"You're getting chocolate on-"

"I don't care about my fucking bed sheets," Kurt growled, yanking the ridiculous (but sort of cute) lopsided bunny ears off of Noah's head before tugging those lips down to his own.

He made Puck stop after only two fingers-with all of their foreplay, Kurt was too wound up to last to their standard three. Noah slipped on his condom in record time, and before you could say "Here comes Peter Cottontail," _they _were coming.

Kurt came right after Puck, because the boy's come-face (even with the drawn on bunny face) was orgasm in the flesh. It took him longer than usual to start bitching about being squished beneath Puck, and once he took out the Wet Wipes from his nightstand (it was in his genes to be prepared) and gave them both a halfhearted clean-up, Kurt was spooning his boyfriend.

He closed his eyes, resting his chin on Puck's shoulder and wrapping his arms around that warm body. "So… I'm sorry for being such a diva on Friday."

"Eh." Puck shrugged. "You woulda found some other excuse to yell at me, anyway. Least your bitch fit was somewhat rational this time." He grinned winningly when Kurt slapped his thigh in rebuttal.

"The beads and chocolate paint were two presents…" Kurt began, tapping his fingers on Puck's six pack. "Where's my last one?"

"You'll get it in a little while," Puck promised. "Speaking of presents, did you get me anything before you hated me?"

"Of course!" Kurt cried, affronted. "You should know that I pre-order gifts weeks in advance, at least."

Puck turned in Kurt's grip, grinning excitedly. Kurt couldn't resist and kissed one of those drawn-on freckles on Puck's cheek. "Can I have it, then?"

Kurt dramatically huffed. "What, snuggling isn't enough?"

"Hey, you're just as materialistic as-possibly more than-me. Now, present?"

"Fine, fine." He walked, naked and without shame, over to his closet and rummaged in the back before emerging with a neatly wrapped parcel. Puck sat up in bed as Kurt sat on the edge. "Happy Passover, hun."

He went at the present with the enthusiasm of a child, the torn wrapping paper flying in all directions in Puck's haste. Kurt grimaced and tugged a piece of tape-sticky polka-dotted paper off the bridge of his nose, watching as Puck ripped the cardboard box in half to get to what was inside.

A moment of silence passed as Puck looked at his gift, and Kurt was smiling unabashedly when his boyfriend looked up at him, his jaw effectively dropped. "Two thousand-? You _didn't_."

"Oh, but I did." Kurt felt his heart leap in his chest when Puck looked at a loss for words. "Just say thank you, Noah."

"_Fuck_-Kurt, thank you. Thank you so, so much," Puck said, his voice thick with emotion as he took out the photocopied donation form to the March of Dimes organization. "You-this-."

Kurt gently put the paper and box to the side, pulling Noah, shaking and silently crying, into his arms. "I _wanted _to do that for you," Kurt murmured into the soft skin of Puck's nape, kissing the spot behind his ear. "For Quinn, for…" He swallowed. "For your little girl that never got a chance."

He held on tight until Noah's wracking sobs calmed, occasionally kissing away the tears from Puck's flushed cheeks as he cried right along. The wound was still gaping and raw, even months after Quinn lost the baby. Kurt wondered if Puck would ever fully get over losing his first child, and then Kurt thought of his own father, how powerfully his dad loved him, and was sad as he figured Puck never would be really, truly okay.

But Kurt would be there, hold on whenever Puck felt weak and exposed, and help glue him back together in the privacy of his arms.

"Love you," Puck sighed tiredly, congested and spent. "So much."

"Mmm, me too, baby. How about we go take a hot shower?" Kurt suggested gently. "But no groping-I'm beat."

"Same," Puck whispered.

* * *

They were wound around each other on the living room couch in their lounge clothes (Puck was in one of Kurt's dad's smaller pairs of flannel pants and a threadbare Van Halen shirt he'd left behind), their skin pink from the hot shower water they'd practically boiled in until the water had turned tepid. On the TV was a rerun of _Paranormal State_, the volume turned all the way down so the room was pretty much silent, save for their breathing and the tick-tocking of the Germany-made grandfather clock in one corner.

Puck had been uncharacteristically silent, and Kurt was beginning to regret his gift. The playful, carefree mood of before had been effectively quashed, and he yearned for the flirty banter to come back.

"You know, you gave me an IOU earlier," Kurt murmured into Puck's ear.

Puck glanced over with a half-smile. "So I did," He agreed.

"I'd like to… redeem it, if you don't mind."

"_Whataya want from me?_" He sang playfully.

Kurt giggled. "Singing mainstream music… and who says old dogs can't learn new tricks?"

"Har-har. So what am I doing for you?" Puck asked suspiciously, curiosity piqued.

"I want you to teach me how to make something," Kurt said. "From scratch."

The mohawked boy frowned pensively. "Like what?"

"Anything you want, chef," Kurt grinned.

Puck smirked back. "How does funnel cake sound?"

"It sounds perfect."

* * *

It wasn't until later on, when the powdered sugar explosion in the kitchen had been cleaned and Puck had gone back home, that Kurt remembered the present Puck promised him. He wasn't one for patience, and Puck obviously knew that, too, since when he called the other boy, Noah opened the conversation with "Let me hang up, and your present will be on its way."

Minutes later, Kurt got a text from Puck. _e-mail_.

He went into his Inbox, ignoring the spam and updates from his fashion blogs in favor of the e-mail from one of his contacts-the one with a heart instead of an actual name.

The message was simply a smiley-face with enough copy-pasted heart symbols to make Kurt's fingers have phantom carpal tunnel. He opened up the attachment, and froze at what was on his screen.

There was his lanky, pale frame, wantonly spread out on his bed. But that wasn't what got him the most. Written in the dark brown chocolate body paint in uneven, barely legible scrawl, was the Pablo Neruda poem his mother had always recited to him.

When Puck called him ten minutes later, nervous and apologizing, Kurt laughed shakily. "Noah…" He tried to find words to express his gratitude. "Always, you are mine, my lovely one," He choked out at long last, a bit desperately.

He could see Puck's soft smile in his mind's eye. "Always."


End file.
